


Ride-Along

by Kahtya Sofia (KahtyaSofia)



Category: Generation Kill, Southland
Genre: Gen, Prompt: Ridealong, The Iceman Cometh - Brad/Anyone Fic Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 21:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/Kahtya%20Sofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad Colbert rides along for a day with Officer Ben Sherman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ride-Along

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a comment fic - unbeta'd

“We got a civilian ride-along today,” the watch commander announced. “Well, active Marine Corps, so not a complete civilian. Sherman, he’s with you in eight-forty-three.”

Brad saw a young looking officer nod in response.

“That’s it, guys. Stay frosty.”

Brad’s head shot up at the watch commander’s words. He hoped it wasn’t prophetic of the events of the day.

A short, but well built, blond officer approached Brad. He was fresh-faced and earnest, looking all of sixteen. Brad had learned, first hand, that a pretty, young face could belie a sharp mind and a staggering level of competence.

“Ben Sherman,” the officer introduced himself. His grip was firm and confident.

“Brad Colbert.”

“Car’s this way.”

Brad followed Sherman out to the parking lot and a sea of black and white. He stood beside one of the vehicles while the officer stowed something in the trunk, juggling a shotgun in one hand.

“Marine Corps, huh?” Sherman asked, as they slid into the seats.

“Yep.”

“Thinking about becoming a cop when you get out?”

“Thinking about it.”

“Here in L.A.?” Sherman put the car in gear and pulled out into traffic. It was just after three and the sun was starting to dip low in the sky. Brad noticed they’d begun traveling east so the sun wasn’t in their eyes.

“No. Out east. One of the Virginia departments. D.C., maybe Baltimore.”

“You’ve seen combat, I assume.”

“I’ve been in it since the beginning.”

“I don’t usually tell this to civilians. You know how to use the radio, right? If something happens and I get into trouble, we’re unit eight-four-three. I’ll be sure to put out our location when I go out on a stop so dispatch knows where we are.”

Brad nodded his understanding.

“If you have any questions, feel free to ask.”

The radio squawked something about a four-five-nine and Brad was sure he recognized their unit designation of eight-forty-three.

Sherman grabbed the mic. “Eight-forty-three, show us responding.”

It turned out to be a report of a break-in. No evidence, no witnesses. It seemed straight forward.

Back inside the car, Sherman said, “Don’t let the television fool you. This is what the majority of police work is all about.”

“Combat’s the same way,” Brad responded. “Years of training, weeks of running scenarios, and the shooting is over in a few minutes.”

They fell silent again. Brad liked that about Sherman. He didn’t rattle on, enjoying the sound of his own voice. He seemed to understand the value silence. The times he did speak, he actually had something to say, so Brad was sure to listen.

“You remind me a little of my tee-oh,” Sherman said suddenly.

“Is that right?” Brad was mildly curious as to what he meant.

“He was a big, quiet guy, too. Never said much, unless it was to tell me how to do something right, and then to tell me how I’d done something completely wrong.”

“Was he a good T.O.? Or just an asshole?”

“Good T.O.” Sherman replied quickly. “He’s a good cop. Made me a good cop.”

There was a long pause.

Sherman chuckled quietly. “He’s an asshole.”

Brad couldn’t help but smile.

They drove again in silence for a time, before Sherman spoke again.

“See that red SUV up ahead? Driving by brail, inconsistent speed?”

Brad glanced ahead. “Yeah, got it.”

“I’m gonna light him up. You stay in the car until I tell you I’m code four.” he held up four fingers.

The stop lasted about thirty minutes. Officer Sherman wrote a ticket, apparently finding nothing more sinister than an inattentive driver. “Eight-forty-three, show us clear and in service.”

“That is what Cooper, my T.O., would have called felony stupid,” Sherman said, smiling. “He really hates stupid people. Loves dogs. Hates stupid people. Eventually, I learned to hate them, too. And they are _everywhere_.”

“I can relate to that,” Brad mused.

“So, lots of guys get out of the service and join the force,” Sherman said, idly.

“That does appear to be the case,” Brad responded. “The structure probably makes us comfortable.”

“You from back east?”

“Nope. Right here in Southern California.” Brad could leave it at that and he knew Sherman wouldn’t push. That was probably the reason he decided to elaborate. “I’ve been in a relationship for a few years. I’ve given up hope that the job will move itself out here. I’m tired of extended separations so I guess I have to do something about it.”

Sherman had the car up over the curb, in park, and was out his door before Brad even spotted the asshole dragging the woman down the street by her hair. It was impressive. Forgetting the earlier caution to remain in the vehicle until Sherman was code-four, Brad leapt out. They hadn’t let him carry his sidearm on this ride along, and he remembered too late that he wasn’t armed.

He watched Sherman approach the screaming couple, hand on his weapon. The leather strap was still fastened so Brad figured things were still relatively under control. He saw Sherman turn and speak into his shoulder mic, most likely calling for back-up.

Sherman issued orders in a calm but commanding tone. He edged forward slowly, with no sign he was willing to back down. It was a command presence, a controlling of the situation that Brad had seen in very few officers. Sherman’s T.O. might have been an asshole, but he’d taught the kid well.

More black-and-whites showed up, blue uniforms spilling out onto the scene. In the face of such overwhelming odds, the prick released the woman’s hair and was tackled to the ground. It was all over in a few minutes.

Back inside the car, Sherman was still seething. “I hate it when women get roughed up. Don’t these guys ever think about their own mothers and sisters? How they’d feel if some asshole knocked around one of them?”

“It gets to you?” Brad asked, watching Sherman closely.

“Yeah, that and kids. Still gets to me.”

Brad stayed silent. It seemed like Sherman had more he wanted to say.

“Are you close to your mom?” he asked, suddenly.

“Yes,” Brad answered quickly. “Very.”

“Me, too.”

“I’ve got two sisters,” Brad added.

“Yeah? Husbands and boyfriends treat them right?”

“With a Recon Marine as a brother-in-law? Fuck yeah, they do.”

“Fuck yeah,” Sherman murmured.

They stopped for a meal break of greasy tacos and watered down soda.

“You haven’t asked me, yet,” Sherman said between bites.

“What’s that?”

“Why I became a cop.”

Brad laughed. “When people find out I’m a Marine, what do you think it is they ask me?”

“Is that right?” Sherman smiled. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“It’s the only thing I ever wanted to do. If I wasn’t sure before, getting sent to military school made me sure.”

“Did you really?”

“Yep. Now, your turn.”

Sherman sighed. “Something happened to my mom that I couldn’t prevent. My dad was an asshole. It seemed like something I could do to help other moms in trouble. Put assholes behind bars where they couldn’t ruin their kid’s lives.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Most days, not so good. Some days, though … some days the bad guys get what they deserve.”

It was the end of shift and Sherman pulled the car into the station parking lot. He pulled his gear from the trunk and rested the shotgun over his shoulder.

“Find what you were looking for?” he asked Brad as they walked toward the back door of the station.

“I did, thank you.”

“How does your partner feel about you becoming a cop? Wouldn’t he prefer you take a safer job after a stint in the Marines?”

Brad gave Sherman a hard look. He wondered what might be behind the question, and when he’d given the game away. There was nothing in Sherman’s eyes but honest curiosity and something resembling understanding. He realized he shouldn't be surprised, really. Sherman spent his days reading people and often, his life depending on the quality of that ability.

“He’s a former Marine,” Brad finally said.

“Ah. He gets it, then.”

“Yeah,” Brad said quietly.

“Well, whatever you decide to do, Sergeant, it was an honor to meet you,” Sherman stuck out his hand.

Brad took Sherman’s hand. This time, it felt friendly instead of formal.

“You as well, Officer Sherman. Stay frosty.”


End file.
